Human Emotions
by Metallica4ever
Summary: Reid goes to prison and finds an unlikely friendship.  Rated M for major reasons. ReidxOC, violence, sexual themes, slash, mentions of drugs and abuse, among other things.
1. My old friend

**Summary: Spencer's in trouble with the law, and soon he finds himself in prison for the murder of a homeless man he had known in his past. Things go down hill from there.**

**Pairing: Spencer Reid/OC**

**Rating: Mature for violence, gore, sex, rape, abuse, drugs, drinking, adult language and mentions of multiple murders and prison rape.**

The television hummed softly from the other room; the screen filled with colorful, fuzzy pictures dancing, casting moving shadows on the blank walls above the couch. The rest of the place was dark and dull, just dim blue light from the screen to illuminate the surrounding rooms. I sat at the kitchen table, alone, as always. I recalled hearing something from the television about a man that was committing hate crimes a few towns over. Hate crimes? Oh, God, no. Hate crimes didn't happen around here. This was no hate crime; it was a piece of art. So what if the subject was African American? It surely wasn't a hate crime. I sat, disgusted, as I listened carefully to the pretty reporter who was currently in the park I had visited not too long ago. She spoke with fake emotion as the camera zoomed to the small wet area of grass, tinted a dark shade of red. I didn't recall that being there. Last time I checked, the area was clean.

Of course, a body does bleed quite a bit after you've stabbed it repeatedly. I suppose the blood got there after I left.

Oh my, my. I had almost forgotten to take then knife out of the shirt it was wrapped up in. Ah, the metallic smell of blood filling the air.

How I've missed you, my friend.


	2. Welcome to hell, Doctor

_"The jury finds the defendant, Spencer M. Reid, guilty of first degree murder."_

That was the day his life ended. Spencer walked, his hands uncomfortably placed behind his back, restrained by cold and sharp metal. He lowered his head, not even bothering to turn and look at his friends as he was escorted out of the courtroom by the armed men.

Soon he was in the cold prison, being stared at by dozens of angry, hungry looking eyes. This prison didn't look as bad as he thought it would, at least. There were doors instead of bars, though the cells were a bit smaller than he'd expected. There was a large area for just hanging about, which most of the inmates were currently doing. Some were talking, some playing cards, some exercising and some just sat alone. Most of them were eyeing him carefully, like he was a piece of meat. Others paid no attention to him. The guard brought him to a door with the numbers '163' engraved on a little metal card in the center of it. The door was slightly cracked open, but Spencer couldn't see anything inside.

"This is your cell. You have one cell mate, a bunk bed, a desk and a chair," the guard said plainly, as if he had said it a hundred times before. He probably had. He opened the door to reveal a slim, well muscled young man lying on the bottom bunk, holding a sketch pad and pencil. He was shirtless and probably just a couple years older than Spencer. He looked up from his drawing to inspect his new cellmate, and seemed pleased.

"Hey kid," he said lazily as Spencer walked in the room.

"Hello," Spencer said awkwardly as he stood there, not entirely sure of what to do.

"What's the name?" the other man asked, not really sounding too curious.

"M-my name is D-," he had to stop himself from saying it, in here he wasn't a doctor, not a genius, just Spencer Reid, possibly somebody's future bitch; a wimpy, scrawny kid who talked too much. "Spencer Reid."

"Cool. It's Michael, by the way, you can call me Mike or whatever," he grumbled as he continued to draw. Spencer shifted uncomfortably. "Oh you can sit, dude," Michael said as he sat up, making space for Spencer to sit on the small, uncomfortable looking bed.

"So… what do you do around here besides draw?" Spencer asked awkwardly.

"Nothing, really, I just hang out in here and draw most of the time. I don't really talk to any others and I've never had a roomie before," Michael stated. He turned for a split second to look at his roommate, and couldn't imagine how a kid like him ended up in here. "What did you do to get yourself locked up?"

"I'm in for first degree murder. Twenty-five years," Spencer said, his voice trailing off. Perhaps if he stopped the story there, people wouldn't want to mess with him.

"Wow, a kid like you? Damn. I'm not really in for anything, actually. I was involved with the wrong people at the wrong time, you know? I ended up in here for something stupid, and after I got out shit got bad. I ended up back in here on false charges a couple months later, and I've been here ever since. That was about a year ago," Michael said casually.

Spencer wasn't sure what to think of this guy. For God's sake, he was a profiler and he couldn't figure out a thing. Something about this guy made him absolutely unreadable. Maybe his mind was just a bit hazy from all of this mess. He still didn't like it.

"So… what's it like in here?" Spencer asked, not actually wanting an answer but needing to break the awkward silence.

"Cold at night, hot during the day, sometimes it gets violent but mostly people stick to themselves or their group. You better be careful out there though, man. If one of the tough guys sees a kid like you… well you just better hope they don't catch you alone." Spencer's mind flashed with mental images. He knew what happened to people like him in places like this.

He just really hoped his new roommate wasn't planning on anything under that calm mask.

It was almost time to lock up for the night, so he'd see soon.

Within thirty minutes, the guards did their check before lock up, and then it was eerily quiet.

"You can have the top bunk," Michael said tiredly as he slipped on his shirt and laid back. Spencer looked around.

"There's no blanket or anything up here…" He remembered what Michael had said about cold nights here. He didn't really like the idea of sleeping on a thin mattress without a blanket or pillow, either.

"Well you can sleep down here for tonight, and tomorrow you can get your stuff," Michael offered. Spencer nervously sat down on the edge of the bottom bunk. Michael laughed quietly and looked at the younger man, "I won't bite, you know."

Spencer looked at his cellmate and let out a small sigh before awkwardly sliding underneath the blanket next to Michael.

"Night, Spence."


	3. What will you give me?

**AN:**

**Oh ho ho, is Reid guilty or not? **

**I'm not telling just yet! ;)**

It had been a couple days since Spencer had been sent to the gray, menacing prison he was now stuck in. In the few days he had spent there, he learned quite a few things. There were some important rules by which somebody like him had to follow in order to stay alive here. Number one was not to mess with anybody, anyway, anywhere, anyhow. Number two was not to shower when certain people were there. Number three was to stick with Michael, at all times.

He had also learned that Michael liked to call him Spence, and was the only person besides his old friend JJ that called him that. Another thing that he realized was really bugging him.

He found it increasingly hard to sleep alone in a place like this. To be honest, he really hated being too close to people on the outside. In here though, something was much different. It felt nice to know that there was somebody by your side, day and night. It was good to feel like you were safe in such an unsafe environment. It wasn't like he was attracted to Michael- no; he was only interested in women. He just felt so incredibly vulnerable and afraid when he slept alone on the cold top bunk. He almost always somehow ended up right back next to his sleeping cellmate. Michael never said anything, and didn't really seem to care either.

It was visitations day, although he didn't really expect anybody to visit him. He was shocked to find that somebody had indeed decided to come and see him. It was Hotch. Spencer was almost afraid of even looking at him as he approached the table.

This place sure gave a lot of freedom to the inmates for a prison.

Hotch sat, stern looking and unblinking as always as his skinny ex-coworker sat down across from him.

"You look like hell," was the first thing he said. His tone was light but his face was serious.

"I feel about as bad as I look," Spencer said quietly, still not completely meeting his old boss's eyes for more than a second.

"Reid, if you want to get out of here you have to help me. We can't help you unless you tell us everything, you know that."

"I did tell you everything, Hotch. I swear," Spencer said, sadness coating his words. He tried his best not to show his emotions, but he wasn't like Hotch. He wasn't strong and confident. He was just a kid trying to live in a world that seems to be out to get him.

"Are you sure you didn't forget anything?"

"Hotch, I have an eidetic memory. It's kind of hard for me to forget, even if I wanted to you know I couldn't…"

"I know… How are you holding up in here?" Hotch asked, trying to change the subject before Spencer got too stressed about it.

"I'm okay I guess. My cellmate's pretty nice. I pretty much just stay in my cell all day though," he said quietly.

"No statistics for me?" Hotch joked, and Spencer smiled dimly. He was too tired to come up with his usual witty answer. Instead he just looked down at his hands and coughed. "Reid you know that the whole team is here for you. We're on your side, remember that. I have to go but Emily or Morgan will be here next week."

Spencer nodded and faked a little smile.

"Oh and Reid," Hotch added as he stood up, "take care of yourself. Prison's a rough place." With that he left and Spencer walked back to his cell, where Michael was designing tattoos in his sketchpad.

"Hey, Michael?"

"Yeah Spence?" the older man answered, not even looking up.

"Could you… Could you maybe get something for me?" Michael seemed to perk up at hearing that and sat up, looking at Spencer.

"It depends, what do you want, and what are you gonna give me?"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Sorry it's so short, it was a bit rushed. I promise the next chapter will be much longer and much more interesting. You'll find out a lot about why Reid is in jail and all that stuff, plus a little bit more about Michael. Warning though, the next chapter might possibly be a bit graphic. It depends on what I'm feeling when I write it ;D**

**Read&Review!**


	4. A bit of good news

Spencer tried to push images of what Michael might want from him out of his mind. "I-I don't really have anything," he said softly.

"Well I can't do any favors unless somebody returns the favor," Michael stated as he continued to draw. Spencer fidgeted nervously. He was starting to go insane, he could feel it. It had been days since he read anything. Since he had done anything productive with his mind. It was driving him crazy. He needed a book, any book; he just wanted something to exercise his brain before he lost it. He knew what Michael was most likely implying when he said, "return the favor."

Spencer wasn't going to let that happen to him. But he also didn't want to go crazy. He sat in silence for a minute, thinking out the consequences of each decision.

No, he didn't want to think that way. This wasn't going to happen to him. He could live without books, couldn't he?

"I…Well, define returning the favor," he finally said.

"Like, a few pencils for a bag of chips; that type of deal." Spencer sighed internally. He had honestly gotten so worked up for nothing.

"Okay, well could you maybe get me a book? I don't care what book but I'd really like to read something," Spencer said quietly.

"Yeah, I can see what I can find. It might be hard, since there's no library here or anything. But I can ask around and see if anybody has anything, in exchange for whatever. I don't really care," Michael answered. Spencer smiled awkwardly and stretched.

The next day, Michael went out for once and spoke with the other inmates. Only one of them actually had anything that could be classified as literature, and that was an old teen novel called "Go Ask Alice". According to the inmate, a visitor had given it to him a few years back. It looked like an odd book, but Spencer needed something, anything to keep his brain from shutting down on him.

Michael made a deal and went back to the cell where Spencer was waiting. The younger man had nodded off while lying on the bed and was currently mumbling to himself about statistics and prison suicide. Michael threw the book in Spencer's direction, effectively hitting him in the stomach and waking him up.

"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty. I got you a book; it may not be any good but it's something, right? Anyway, you have something for me, correct?"

Spencer mumbled something and pulled a bag of potato chips from his pocket. His pants were a bit baggy, and it made him look odd. Michael walked over and grabbed the chips while Spencer looked over the book. He almost questioned whether or not he really even wanted to read this, seeing what it was about.

A teenage girl getting hooked on drugs. Memories haunted him still of being in that dark room with Tobias Hankel, Rafael and Charles Hankel. The drugs took the pain of reality away. Who wouldn't want to feel better? That's what he always reasoned with. His own mind fighting itself, the difference between right and wrong blurring.

That was a long time ago though. He had gotten over it. He opened the book and began to read.

About ten minutes later he set the book down and began to watch Michael draw. "You taking a break already?" the older man asked.

Spencer shook his head, "No, I've finished it already." Michael turned around and stared at him.

"What?"

"I…I already finished it," Spencer said again. Michael laughed for a moment but then realized the serious look on his cellmate's face.

"You're…Never mind." He went back to drawing his tattoo design. This one was a skull with roots wrapped around it, twisting and fitting into cracks and braiding together to make a step holding up a rose. It was very unique looking.

"Where did you learn to draw so well?" Spencer asked after a minute of quiet.

"I guess when you're stuck in a cell for a year with nothing else to do, you learn things to keep yourself busy."

Spencer just smiled and kept watching.

Back at Quantico, the team was trying hard to find a way to get Spencer out of prison and back at the BAU. There had been a stabbing in a park, and his prints and DNA where everywhere. There was only one other print that they could find, and it didn't have any match. The police had enough evidence against Spencer to arrest him and eventually he was convicted of first degree murder and was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. Everybody knew that there was no way he could have done something like that. Spencer Reid, the quiet, awkward, geeky genius kid who was friendly towards everybody and loved his books, his mother and statistics. There was just no way.

It was visitation day again. Spencer made his way down to the room where all of the inmates spoke with visitors. He was surprised to see Garcia, arguing with a guard about something across the room. He smiled; he really did miss all of them.

Garcia glanced over and saw him, saying something rude to the guard before running to him and hugging him.

"We miss you so much!" she said, wiping her eyes a little, "How are you holding up?" She remembered something that she had said once, about him going to prison and being somebody's bitch. She regretted saying that now. Her Spencer Reid was in prison and she wasn't able to help him and she felt awful.

"I'm pretty good. Better than when I first arrived, at least. How's the team? I thought Morgan or Emily was going to be here," he had confusion and a bit of worry in his voice.

"The team is working a case right now but I had a bit of free time so I thought it would be a good idea to… you know, come visit you!" she said in her usual overly happy tone. Spencer was glad to hear her so cheery. It had been a while since he had heard anybody talk to him with real positive emotion. Ever since things started looking bad for him, everybody was different around him. Some thought he was guilty, others acted like he was a victim and treated him like one, and some were just awkward after that. Garcia and Hotch were the only people he knew that didn't change or act like he had changed. Spencer noticed how Garcia was no longer looking at him, but beyond him. He gave her a puzzled look. "Hey, Reid, there's a guy over there that keeps giving me creepy looks. He's been staring at you like, since we started talking."

"What? What does he look like…?" Spencer asked, wondering if it was somebody he knew.

"Uhh, tall, maybe taller than you; dark brown, almost black hair, not to beefy but kinda beefy? I can't really see what his eye color is."

Spencer turned around and scanned the area. There was Michael, standing by a table that an old woman was approaching. He stared back at Spencer, eyeing him carefully with an unreadable face.

"That's Michael, my cellmate," Spencer said.

"He looks like a creep."

"He's actually a pretty nice guy."

Garcia's cell phone rang and she sighed as she answered it. She gave short replies and quickly hung up. "Reid, Hun, we're gonna do our best to get you out of here. I know I'm not supposed to talk about the case but I also know that you deserve to know this. We found another fingerprint, bloody, near the victim. It matches the other print Emily pulled off of the victim. We think that this may be our unsub," she said quietly. Spencer felt a little bit of relief and hope wash over him upon hearing those words. It didn't look so bad after all.

"I have to go my wonderful boy genius; I'll try to visit soon. If I have to, that is. You could be out sooner than you know it! Bye genius," she said, standing and walking quickly out of the room. For the first time since he had arrived, Spencer finally got some good news.

**AN:**

**Okay so this chapter was a bit longer than the others. I hope to get another chapter finished by the end of the day and posted by tomorrow! As always, Read/Review! (:**


	5. Help me out

Spencer was walking back through the main hall where most of the inmates hung out when somebody grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall.

"Hey pretty boy," a gruff voice snarled. The lighting wasn't great where ever they were and all Spencer could really tell was that the man was taller and much more muscular than himself. He felt rough fingers dragging through his hair. He was released and the other man made a huffing noise that made Spencer look around, frightened. Michael and the man were exchanging glares as the man brushed off his shirt.

"Thanks," Spencer managed to squeak out and Michael nodded, turning back to the other man.

"Your new cellmate, eh? He's a real cutie," the bigger man said with a sly grin, "You fuck him yet?"

Spencer shrunk back as far as he could, too scared to move but trying to get as far away as he could from the situation at hand. "Fuck off," Michael growled and the man snorted, sulking off.

"Thanks, really," Spencer said quietly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, "if you didn't come along when you did-," he was cut off.

"You should probably stick close to me when you're out. There's plenty more creeps like him in here, and some of them can make that guy look like a pretty civil person." Spencer nodded and followed him back to the cell that they shared. Michael sat down and looked up at Spencer, who was inspecting a small crack in the wall.

"The blonde chick seemed happy, got any good news?" he finally asked, and Spencer had to think for a moment before realizing that Garcia was the blonde chick.

"Yeah, actually. She's -was- one of my coworkers. I guess they found some evidence that could get me out of here," he said quietly. Michael shot him a look.

"So you never actually did hurt anybody," he stated more than asked.

"I never said I did…"

"You never said you didn't," Michael said, his eyes intimidating and dark. Spencer tried his best to look tougher than he was, in here it could mean life or death. So what if he had implied that he was a killer? It's not like it mattered, not to Michael especially.

"Why is it important?" Spencer asked in his small, nervous voice.

"It's not. That's good, though, about the new evidence and stuff. A kid like you doesn't belong in a place like this," Michael said, his eyes shifting to the blanket that was wrinkled and tossed at the end of the small bed.

"Yeah…" Spencer's voice trailed off as he began to think about getting out.

"Hey, Spence?"

"Hmm?" Spencer hummed, still in thought.

"Could you perhaps do me a favor when you get out?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah… sure, maybe," Spencer mumbled almost to himself.

"When you get out… could you try to help me get out of here? I know it's a lot to ask and all but I figured with you being in the FBI and all, well maybe you could somehow help?" Michael had turned himself so that he was facing Spencer and intently waiting for his answer.

"I… Well, I'm not really sure if I can help… I-I'll see though," Spencer said, his nervousness showing through his voice, even though he didn't exactly have anything to be nervous about.

"Thanks, man. I don't know how long I can stay sane in this place," Michael chuckled to himself, and Spencer laughed too, nodding his head.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Yes, extremely short chapter is extremely short. I just wanted to finish it and go to bed. I was supposed to do this like days ago but a lot of stuff came up so I didn't get around to even starting it. Okay so a note about future chapters. **

**The rest of the chapters will most likely be written in present tense instead of past tense, because I just prefer things written that way. Also, starting soon, I'm not entirely sure when, the chapters will be more like one-shots that fit together to make a complete story, but won't be real chapters on their own. They'll kinda each be like little stories within the story, if that makes any sense. I promise the next chapter will be more interesting, because this one was just kinda filler space and very half-assed. Read and review, as always! (:**


	6. Stolen kisses, Coming home

Spencer isn't completely sure when it happened, but he's pretty sure Michael is trying to be closer than a friend now.

Because currently, Michael is rubbing his back, talking to him in a voice nobody's ever used before towards him, trying to calm him down.

Spencer's stomach feels like it's turning inside out, and he jerks as his stomach fights him again. He really isn't sure how he got sick, but he knows that he's definitely sick now. He coughs and rubs his hands against his eyes, pushing back his hair and exhaling loudly. Michael is sitting beside him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his back, making small, relaxing circles. "Oh, God," he whispers before heaving, trying not to vomit. He groans at the pain in his stomach as bile rises in his throat and he can't help but feel a little better when Michael wraps one arm around him in an awkward half hug. The nice feeling goes away immediately as Spencer heaves again, holding his own stomach and sniffling a little. A guard finally shows up after twenty minutes or so, hearing Spencer's pained groans.

"What's goin' on?" The guard's rough voice echoes around the prison.

"He needs a doctor," Michael says quickly, "He's really sick." The guard glances between the two of them for a moment as Spencer looks up, his eyes red and tired looking. He winces as he moves and the guard huffs.

"Come on," he says lazily and Spencer stands, with a little help from his cell mate. He walks to the guard, who slips the metal cuffs on his wrists before walking down the long hall towards the infirmary. Spencer follows, trying to hold his stomach with cuffed hands.

* * *

The BAU headquarters are rejoicing right now, although they really shouldn't be. On one hand, this meant Spencer would be returning. On the other, they now have another dead body, one more family to inform, one more life lost.

Hotch sighs, trying to concentrate on the stack of paperwork that he's looking over. Prentiss and Morgan are talking about the unknown fingerprint, it was found again at the new crime scene. It had to be the killer's.

* * *

Spencer sighs; they gave him some meds to calm his stomach and sent him back to his cell, where Michael was sitting with a worried expression. Spencer comes in and Michael stands for a second but sits back down as Spencer walks over to the bed and nearly collapses, looking tired and a bit uncomfortable. He lays back, resting his head on the pillow and closes his eyes. When he's absolutely sure that Michael is asleep, he curls up closer and sighs.

Truth be told, Michael had always been good at pretending to be asleep.

* * *

In the morning, Spencer wakes up and stretches, moving away from Michael before shaking him awake. Michael groans, sitting up tiredly and blinking a few times. "You feeling any better?" he asks sleepily, and Spencer nods his head.

They get up and go through the morning routine of dull prison life, like they do every single morning. What Spencer wasn't expecting though was a woman in a suit to ask to see him. They head down the hall towards her office and Spencer looks back to see Michael, who's intently watching him with a slightly amused face.

They arrive at a gray door and step inside as the woman sits.

"You're being released," she says, and for a second Spencer thinks he's hallucinating all of this, or maybe just dreaming. "There has been some new evidence found in your case and it is now apparent that you are innocent. You'll be sent home tomorrow," she says officially, looking stern and not quite happy. Spencer feels more relieved than he has ever felt before. He is escorted back to his cell where Michael is sketching something. He looks up from his paper and studies Spencer's features.

"You look happy," he states as he continues to draw.

"I'm leaving," Spencer says and Michael stares up at him, "Tomorrow."

Michael stands up and grins, "Great to hear, kid!" Somehow they end up a lot closer than they had meant to, because that friendly, congratulatory hug turns into a kiss real fast. Spencer's mind goes numb for a second before kicking into overdrive and he steps back.

There's a long silence before," I'm not…I'm not gay."

"Neither am I," Michael states plainly.

Spencer's face is a shade of pink, "Well…something tells me that wasn't a friendly 'congratulations'," he says and Michael smirks.

"No, not exactly, I guess not," he says finally. Spencer shifts uncomfortably at the lack of space between their two bodies. He coughs and turns to sit down on the edge of the bed. Michael sits next to him, turning to look at him while Spencer looks away. He feels Michael's hand on the back of his neck, drawing him a little closer. He goes for a kiss but Spencer ducks and Michael's lips land on the top of his head instead of his mouth. Spencer looks up at Michael and for a moment thinks about just how much he really likes the man. It's true, he really does admire him in an odd way, and maybe, just maybe there's something else underneath that admiration. Spencer's head hurts and he lays down, watching Michael pick up his pencil and start drawing again.

The rest of the day is quiet and uneventful, perhaps unusually so. Michael's eyes never leave his paper, and Spencer's eyes never leave Michael's lips.

* * *

Prentiss and Garcia laugh as Morgan attempts to show off but ends up failing miserably. Hotch walks in and they all straighten up as he sends them looks of disapproval. There's something cheery in the air. Everybody's glad that Spencer would be back later in the day. But they're also still trying to figure out this case. It was reassigned up until now; Strauss thought that the team's opinions and function would be compromised because one of their own was a suspect. They were reassigned the case now, and were desperately trying to figure things out.

It's nearing one o'clock, and Hotch and Rossi are leaving to pick Spencer up from prison. Since Spencer's only family was his mother, who was mentally ill, Hotch was pretty much family. He was as close as it got.

So Hotch was the one who was to pick him up, and Rossi had offered to tag along. Now they're in the car, on their way to reunite Spencer with the team, as well as the outside world. Rossi glances at Hotch for a moment.

"Think he'll be okay?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" Hotch responds.

"Prison changes you. And, well look at the kid. You really think he was alright in there? He's _pretty_, Hotch," Rossi says, sighing.

"He seemed fine when I visited him. Besides, Dave, he's only been in prison for three weeks," Hotch tries his best to tell himself that Spencer would be fine. Rossi doesn't respond and the rest of their drive is silent.

When they arrive, Spencer is waiting for them, accompanied by a guard. He smiles nervously as they get out of the car and Spencer almost hugs Hotch, but decides that it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Instead he talks about how glad he is to be free again, and how bad the food was in prison. Hotch and Rossi chuckle when he says that last part.

"You know, statistically speaking," Spencer starts ranting as soon as he's back at the BAU headquarters. Morgan smiles, patting him on the back.

"Well I can say one thing, I sure didn't miss your statistics," he says with a grin and Spencer shuts up and chuckles.

Garcia runs to him and gives him a rib crushing hug, "I missed you so much my fine friend," she says once she lets go. Spencer smiles.

"I missed all of you, too," he says quietly.

Spencer pushes Michael to the back of his mind. He's happy, and he's home. That's all that matters.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Yeah so everybody was talking about how cool it would be if Reid was really guilty. It would actually be a pretty cool idea but unfortunately, this was something that had been stuck in my head and when that happens to me I'm pretty OCD with sticking to the original plan. Hell, I already have chapter ten written out, because it was just bugging me and I had to get in written xD**

**So sorry to disappoint, but Reid isn't a serial killer. At least not in this fanfic. :P**

**Also, I felt guilty for posting the last chapter late, so I double-updated, yes.**


	7. A very long day

Spencer is back at his apartment, which looks like it hasn't been occupied in years. There's dust on everything, even a couple spider webs in places. Spencer shudders at the thought of spiders in his home.

He goes to his bedroom and lays down, attempting to rest.

But no rest comes. His head is filled with one fear; not spiders or darkness, but being alone.

He restlessly tosses and turns while Michael's name rings in his ears.

In the morning he is still awake, trying desperately to somehow get that stupid name out of his head. All he can think is _Michael_.

All he can hear is Michael's voice, "_Spencer…_" it whispers.

All he can see is _Michael_, everywhere he goes he is reminded of that face.

He curses, he's not normally one to curse but the word just slips from his mouth, "_fuck_," he whispers to himself. He wants to scream. This hasn't ever happened to him before. He is stuck.

He turns on the shower and steps in, letting the hot water wash away memories.

Unfortunately, when you have an eidetic memory, water doesn't seem to do the trick when it comes to getting rid of memories.

He feels it, still, those lips pressed against his. The steady breathing on his neck, night after night.

While he's at work the words on his papers seem to blur together.

"_Michael."_

Everything.

Everything is Michael, everything is about him and everything that Spencer sees taunts him with troubling memories.

His coworkers see it too, in his eyes. The way his eyes dart around, never truly focused. He doesn't spout off statistics anymore. He keeps to himself, really. Afraid that if he opened himself up to somebody, he'd tell them about what happened. He doesn't want anybody to know.

Morgan is the first one to say something.

"You okay man?" he asks Spencer while he is trying to work. Spencer gives him a forced smile.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he mumbles as the smile disappears from his face.

"You just seem stressed. If you ever wanna talk," Morgan offers but Spencer huffs.

"I'm fine, really."

Hotch is second. He calls Spencer into his office and orders him to shut the door behind him. Spencer sits down in front of Hotch's desk and bites his lip.

"Reid, if something's troubling you," he starts, but Spencer cuts him off.

"I already told Morgan that I'm fine," he states.

"But you aren't. Reid it doesn't take a profiler to see that something's bothering you," Hotch says. It's true, and Spencer knows it. But acknowledging and admitting are two different things entirely.

"Hotch I'm completely okay," he says in a tone that is just pleading for the questions to end. They don't.

"If you want to talk, you can always come to me," Hotch says and Spencer stands.

"Thanks but I'm alright," he says before walking out of the office. He receives a worried glance from Prentiss but he pretends not to notice.

He can only pretend for so long.

When he arrives at work the next day, there's a package on his desk.

"It was dropped off earlier. Say's it's for you," Morgan explains and Spencer picks it up, grabbing the scissors off of his desk and slicing through the thick tape. It was sent from prison.

He opens the box to find a note and something else. He picks up the note, "You forgot something," it says in messy handwriting. He takes the something else, a book, and looks it over.

"_Go Ask Alice"_

Spencer isn't exactly sure what to do with the book, or what to feel. He spent three weeks with a man he hardly knew, he slept in his cellmate's arms, he felt safe and _good_ with Michael. And Michael had kissed him. But now he is so confused, because that safe feeling also makes him feel so very unsafe. He frowns, putting the book down on his desk as Morgan walks by.

"Go Ask Alice? I think I read that book in high school. Doesn't seem like your type of reading," Morgan says, and Reid thinks about telling him all about Michael but he doesn't. Instead he looks at the floor uncomfortably.

"I, uh, read it a while back… One of my old friends let me borrow it," he half lies. He gulps, this is going to be a long day.

**A/N Sorry about the super duper long wait people! I tried to get it finished but kept getting caught up in other things (like writing out the rest of the chapters, a habit of mine that isn't so great…) so it took a while. Anyway, yeah, uneventful chapter ._.**

**So the next chapter may take a little bit but I pretty much have most of the rest of the story written out… I'm odd like that D:**

**Also, I really got sick of the writing in present tense thing. It's irritating me, so I'm not gonna do it in the rest of the chapters. Sorry if that confuses anybody ):**

**So about the first chapter… That'll come into play in the next chapter when we meet our wonderful little unsub! Until then, read and review as always! (:**


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